


Nepenthe

by deltachye



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Reader-Insert, Romance, descriptive blanks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-08-16 14:39:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8106187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye
Summary: [reader x arthur; arthur’s narrative] Nepenthe;A drug that provides means of forgetting grief and troublesTo him, his nepenthe to escape from you was his dreams. It's a shame that you haunted him in them anyways.[response to Schwer-von-Begriff’s ‘Dreams vs. Realities’ challenge]





	1. ordinarydream [1]

* * *

 

Sometimes knowing the consequences didn’t take away from the pain of them.

Arthur knew he couldn’t dream naturally. It was a sacrifice for this job he had made long ago — and there weren’t any regrets. There was nothing quite like the dreams where you are God. But only wise men fear that power.

Arthur was scared.

He ran frantically in the deserted streets of a city, skyscrapers staring down at him from the heavens. He didn’t know what he was running from. He didn’t control his actions, his thoughts. Why was he dreaming at all?

Fragments of his life made his way into the alien city. A hill he walked past to get to his elementary school. A small convenience store he would buy sodas from with his spare change. The courtyard where he met Cobb. The only thing that halted his steps was the bridge.

The bridge where he had met you.

_“Hey, watch it!”_

_“I’m sorry—“ he stumbled back away from you, clutching the briefcase in his hand a little tighter. If he had dropped it, there would be much more to say than ‘oops’. He brushed off his suit jacket and held up a hand as apology, nearly about to set off again before you reached out and grabbed his arm. You were silent for a moment, and when he was about to jerk away you hissed to him sharply._

_“We’re dreaming.”_

_He was bewildered. You weren’t a projection? Then why were you here at all, stealing seconds away from his work? Who were you?_

_“There’s no time,” he said with finality. He eyed the edge of the bridge warily, clicking his tongue in frustration. There was never any goddamn time. “Come with me.”_

_“Well, where are you taking me?” you demanded; yet followed after him with ginger footsteps._

_“You’ll just have to trust me.”_

He saw you there. Standing on the edge of the bridge with him, clutching his hand with the palest face. The wind tossed your brushed hair around in a tangled flurry of colour, but he remembered very clearly through the hazy dream that you had never looked more beautiful than in that moment.

_”You’re asking me to jump with you?! I don’t even know your name! For all I know you’re an insane guy—”_

_“The name’s Arthur.” He cut you off, checking his watch on the arm that didn’t have you clinging on. It ticked away slowly, each miniscule movement of the golden strip pulling the line of tension more and more._

_“Oh, that’s real nice. I feel like we connect on_ so _many levels. Let’s go on a date now, shall we? Get married?”_

_“If you jump with me in… 3.5 seconds, sure.”_

_“Dammit!” you shrilled, before letting go of his forearm and closing your eyes. You wobbled dangerously, your knees shaky. “Push me.”_

_“What?”_

_“Push me, Arty-boy, or I’ll shoot you!”_

A small smile made his way onto his lips as he saw a younger self shove you off the bridge, your screams trailing after you like a teenager on a roller coaster. He stepped forwards after watching the eye-rolling Arty Boy leap after. He peered down to see nothing but an empty road. He wanted to call your name as if it would bring you back. But he knew it wouldn’t and walked away.

A man can only dream away his pains.


	2. daydream [2]

He stared blankly at the paper he had been holding in his hands, his eyes moving yet not registering any of the words. Despite his inattention, a date stuck out to him as if highlighted and bolded in bright red. Yes, he remembered that date all too well…

_”Holy crap,” you gasped with exhilaration, collapsing in the uneven golden dunes to catch your breath. Arthur followed, dragging himself out of the sea and nearly inhaling a mouthful of sand in his hurry to satisfy his burning lungs. Water poured off of his body, his shirt clinging to his skin. So much for that million dollar Italian suit. He opened his mouth to say something but gagged, nearly throwing up on the rusty taste of blood that surged into his mouth._

_“Thanks,” he finally managed to say weakly on his second attempt, craning his head to look at you. You lay face-up, your eyes closed as you panted for breath. Your blue dress was torn, revealing a bit more thigh than it should have. He ripped his gaze away, rolling onto his back to stare up into the night sky. The stars glittered away in the navy. The foreign constellations glowed warmly in the chilly night, twinkling dimly._

_“Is it always this hard to save your ass?” you propped yourself onto elbows, your tangled mess of a hair obscuring half of your face. He scoffed dryly, lying still._

_“I say it’s 50/50 chance. You never know. I’m a wild card.” You laughed as he put a sexual drawl on his words, plopping back down into the sand. The waves washed onto the shore rhythmically despite all the action, as if the Earth had no care. Everything was trivial compared to the balance of nature._

_“Oh, my God,” you murmured again, earning a tired grunt from him. He opened an eye to look at you as you sat up, brushing sand off your arms. You were smiling gently, a mysterious glint in his eye that made him think that you were up to no good. “It’s January 1st, isn’t it?”_

_“So?” Arthur closed his eye, preferring to count the seconds instead of listen to your babble about holidays and other meaningless traditions. He’d only been partnered with you for a month after first meeting you on that bridge, but your presence made it seem like a decade._

_“You know what they do on the New Year’s,” you said, your voice heavily hinting at something that he willingly ignored._

_“Panic over apocalypse theories?” he mumbled sarcastically, earning a handful of sand to the face. He spat it out, rubbing his eyes. “that was unnecessary!”_

_“Surprise,” you smirked, before it faded quickly. You leaned back onto your two hands, gazing up at the moon. It’s riddled surface was clearer than ever in the clean air._

_Watching you, Arthur reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He probably would never hear the end of this from you. No, he definitely wouldn’t. He gave a quiet groan of exasperation. He sat up before turning your head, pecking you on the lips crudely before collapsing back into the sand._

_“Surprise,” he mumbled. He woke up with his eyelids snapping open as if from a nightmare, and hurriedly ran to the washroom before he had to endure your waggling eyebrows and your smug ass grin._

“Arthur. Arthur! Wake up man, we’re here.”

Arthur blinked rapidly, only just realizing he had been staring at the same page and not been spending an awkward New Years with you. He sighed almost angrily, slapping the paper down into the file. Then, he would have given anything to be transported away. Now, he would give anything to go back. With you.

Cobb noticed his attitude and assumed correctly, placing a hand on his shoulder before standing to retrieve the duffel bags. He understood how losing somebody felt.

But nobody can understand the pain he carried every time he woke up from those fantasies.


	3. luciddream [3]

Arthur looked behind him, seeing Cobb and the finally silent Eames passed out on the creaky couch in the back of the base. Their snores seemed authentic enough, and so he crept towards the briefcase that lay on the plastic table. He felt almost guilty while opening it, and even guiltier when attaching the needle to his forearm. He was ashamed when he lay back into the cheap lawn chair, yet all those negative feelings faded when he closed his eyes.

The transfer from reality to fantasy was nearly instantaneous. He found himself in a comfortingly alien city, the foreign buildings geometrically shaped and made with stunning glass. The clouds above floated on the ground in fountains that were all shut off, only marble models to show. He knew that he was God now, his mind the weapon to forge or destroy any he wished. 

And so, he wished to create you.

“Hey, Arty-boy. New shirt? Working out? No, I’ve got it. New socks.”

He turned to see you perched at the top of the fountain, your heel-clad feet swinging in the air childishly. Your playful grin was heart melting, and he nearly felt like bursting into tears right there. You noticed straightway like you always did and leapt down, taking his face in your ever-soft hands. He leaned into your touch, his breaths becoming erratic. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, clenching his eyelids together. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“For what?” you breathed, kissing him on the cheek. Your lips lingered before you pulled away, taking his hand. “Come. I wanna show you some stuff.”

He let you pull him along, watching as buildings built themselves from the ground as you walked past. You stopped at an unfamiliar house, a short wooden house that was painted white with wide, open windows. He saw teal curtains billowing and bustling figures running amongst the house, and he could immediately tell what it was.

“Is it…” he asked, his voice cracking. You rubbed his hand with a thumb, your smile soft and gentle.

“Yeah. It’s the house I would’ve bought with you.”

Arthur looked at it for another minute before pulling on your arm once, signalling that he was done. You turned and led him down the empty road, talking about random things like how the cloud looked like a teapot and then telling him a story about how you stepped in a puddle that was actually a sinkhole and nearly drowned. He wasn’t listening, merely to the sound of your voice. He watched you walk, your hair billowing behind you and how your hips swayed. You led him along before stopping abruptly, your lips forming an ‘o’. ”I almost forgot to give this back to you.”

You handed him his wallet, which was more worn than he could remember it. He flipped it open to see a picture of a family in the first slot. There you were, flashing that charming smile and holding the hands of two children. One had his eyes. Another had his nose. 

You had your hands behind your back and was bouncing on your heels, your smile still gentle. “I wish you could have seen them with me. They’re so sweet. Mallorie always screws around with Eames.”

“We named him Eames?” he asked, cracking a weak smile. You grinned widely, giggling to yourself.

“You’d be surprised to how well you would have gotten along.”

The more you talked about his could-have-been future, the more he wanted to break. He closed the wallet with a snap and hurriedly grabbed your hand again, pulling you into a tight hug mid-sentence. You weren’t even real any longer and yet he was relying on your touch to anchor him to reality. He almost laughed. A fantasy to remind him of who he was. 

You patted his back comfortingly, rubbing your cheek into the crook of his neck. He kept holding you as if you would disappear if he didn’t, inhaling the subtle scent of your shampoo. You let him stay like that for several moments before finally pushing him away, tears in your eyes with your smile.

“Goodbye,” you whispered to him. “I love you.”

He woke up immediately after, his eyes sliding open slowly. He didn’t sit up or stir, and instead choosing to lie there. He looked at the machine that could bring you back to him, but found that he couldn’t face you again. 

He lay there for the rest of the night. When Cobb poked his head into the room to check on him, all that he could see was a broken figure who wept to himself.


	4. nightmare [4]

“Arthur!”

You cried out for him, your tears streaming down your face. The man holding you grinned as your bone crunched under his boot. Your screams pierced the air and his own soul, making him gasp out as if hit himself. He took a step towards you but Cobb took his shoulder, pulling him back.

“Arthur, we have to leave her.”

Arthur looked at Cobb blankly, his words warbling in his ear. What was he saying? He had to leave you? But he couldn’t… He couldn’t! 

“N… No,” Arthur managed to breathe, pulling himself away from Cobb. He found himself walking towards you, your groans of pain quieting.

“Come to us,” the masked man curled his fingers, beckoning for him to come forwards. He halted in his steps, his eyes wide as the man kept crooning at him. “You’ll lose her forever if you don’t. Come, Arthur. Come, Dom—“

“Arthur, don’t listen to him!” surprising him, the voice wasn’t Cobb’s. It was yours. It was strained through layers of pain, yet you screamed at him all the same. “Go! Go with Cobb!”

“But—“ he felt Cobb pulling him back as the man roared with anger, his bulky frame smashing back down on your frail back. You choked out but stared at him fiercely with your haunting eyes, repeating the same message. You stretched a broken arm out, flicking your wrist. Instinctively, he caught the glimmering ring out of the air, the cold metal against his skin almost making him drop it. The worn gears that were impossible to turn unless in a dream glinted at him. Why would you give your totem to him?

It was goodbye.

You opened your mouth again to say those words. He knew it would happen. He had run through this moment so many times on his own before. It was always the same — _“Goodbye, I love you.”_ But that wasn’t what you said.

“You hate me!” your shrieked, your voice that of a banshee. You sobbed over and over, confusing Arthur. This wasn’t what happened.

“I-I don’t—“ he whispered, but you slammed your hand onto the pavement. 

“You never loved me, never! All lies! You abandoned me! Left me here to die! Why, Arthur! I loved you so much and you couldn’t even save me?”

“Stop,” his hands shook and he dropped your totem onto the ground, where it rolled away into the dark shadows. He clutched at his ears — almost childishly — but he had to get your voice out of his head. “Stop!”

“Oh, now you’re telling me to shut up? You killed me! You murdered me!”

“Stop,” he wheezed. Your words were echoing in his conscience, breaking him. He did leave you here. Why couldn’t he save you? Why did he kill you? Why didn’t he do something? Did he really love you? Were all those feelings fake? “Please…”

“I loved you so much,” you hissed at him, your twisted body now slithering towards him. He couldn’t back away — he was paralyzed with fear. Or was it guilt? You clammy hands clawed at his face, your voice high and hysterical. “Why didn’t you love me?”

“Why?”

_”Why?!”_

_Wake up,_ something inside of him urged. He held in a scream as you scraped at his skin, demanding the same broken question over and over. _Wake up!_

But he couldn’t wake up. He didn’t want to lose you again. Yes, he would endure this torture over and over if it meant not leaving you again. He would allow you to break him just like you had made his life, if it meant not letting you go.

He would allow himself to haunt himself with that one question.

Why?


	5. wakingup [5]

With a scream, Arthur woke. 

He clamped a hand over his mouth to halt his shrieks, yet his heart flipped erratically in his chest. He lay gasping, before rolling over and frantically patting down his sheets. Where did you go? Where were you—

Only when he felt the cold ring strung on a necklace press into his skin did he remember. You weren’t beside him any longer. You never would be.

He rolled back onto his back, placing a cold hand on his sweaty forehead. He thought he could never dream naturally. But yet here he was, stripping his soul away with those memories of you. He nearly laughed in a fit of hysteria. You had brought his life together, and now you were breaking it apart. A curse from the grave. If you even were dead. He didn’t even get to have that closure. 

He found himself clutching onto your ring, letting the metal dig into his skin so that it hurt. As if holding tighter onto this would bring himself back together. Holding what remained of you might keep himself closer to sanity — closer to you.

Yet a man can only dream for a perfect life.

Dream he did, dream he did. His fantasy would never come to him, but oh, did he dream.

**Author's Note:**

> Elsewhere: http://deltachye.tumblr.com/post/145784853386/nepenthe-t-reader-x-arthur-arthurs-narrative


End file.
